


… And Everything After

by BlackVelvet42



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s02e25 Resolutions, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-29 22:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/pseuds/BlackVelvet42
Summary: “Trust built over the years, ancient legends promising a future together - ripped to shreds in mere seconds.”





	… And Everything After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Klugtiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klugtiger/gifts).



> Thank you MiaCooper, for reading the first draft. I asked, you answered, and I humbly valued every word.
> 
> And thank you Klugtiger and Killermanatee, for helping me finish this story. Beta is not enough to describe all you have given me.
> 
>  
> 
> ∞ ∞ ∞

Years later, whenever she thought about those first months on New Earth, she always regarded them as a space and time between worlds.

Unable to let go of the past, not ready to accept the formless, uncharted future. Clinging to structures useless in the new surroundings, routines offering comfort and stability in the midst of change. 

She would continue searching for a cure, a solution, and a path back to the known.

He would embrace the present, admit the unpredictable nature of life, and begin shaping the given conditions the best he could.

And they would meet somewhere in the middle, cautious and considerate, to find the right words, the right ways to interact, forging their relationship anew.

Occasionally, they found themselves in conflict with differences in handling the situation they were thrown into, yet they always remained confident that whatever happened, they would find a way to make it through.

Days were filled with meaningful tasks within their capabilities on a planet that posed no threat, only nourished them lavishly. And although it was painful to let go of a well-defined life and continue in a state where no certainty existed, adjusting to the new circumstances was getting easier by the week.

The rainy season was still far ahead and the forests were full of treasures to be found. When the chores of the day had been put aside and the sun was setting behind the hills, they would sometimes gather familiar foods from the replicator and exotic delicacies from the wild and set out for a picnic on the soft grass.

The wind would blow gently through the leaves, the sky painted with shades of auburn. Their conversation would flow along with their laughter, warm and familiar, and all would feel right in their small world.

The surrounding beauty was perfected with the magical pull that had always existed between them, alluring yet daunting, still needing some time to grow and strengthen, waiting for the right moment to bloom.

By sharing his feelings in the form of a legend, he had eased the uncertainty for both of them, and for that, she was grateful.

The depth and intensity of his speech had surprised her, shaken her, and every day she cherished those words, making no demands, only recognizing an emotion and a hope for more.

His declaration had led to an agreement that they would wait and let everything unfold on its own, allow their relationship to advance naturally in the direction that was probably inevitable but sweet in the waiting.

Without the restraints of command, the tension rippled between them like a living entity. On so many nights, they lingered close, almost touching, and she looked into his eyes, holding her breath, anticipating the feel of his lips against hers.

But something always disrupted the spell, and the moment passed, leaving them smiling shyly at each other, recognizing the desire tingling all over, but leaving it to grow just another day.

Until one evening, dining under the rising moon, the thrill his presence evoked in her was more than it had ever been.

Colors seemed brighter and details sharper, the sounds of the wilderness vivid as a symphony, her senses heightened to take in the moment she’d been waiting for.

Her eyes were drawn to the curve of his lips tinted by the berries they had enjoyed for dessert, his musky scent tempting her closer, the heat spreading throughout her body in a heady flash, pulsing hard with every beat of her heart.

And his feverish gaze and quickening breath gave away that he felt the same.

The need to touch him shocked her with its intensity and to clear her thoughts, she abruptly got up. Taking with her what was left of their dinner, she headed for the shelter, smiling and savoring the high of pleasant excitement.

She heard him follow her through the door, carrying the rest of the dishes, and when their eyes met in the middle of the room, it was a spark that ignited a blaze, devouring, all-consuming.

In a heartbeat she was in his arms, their lips meeting with bruising fervor, eager hands feeling each other in haste. With a delicious resolve, he pinned her against the wall and let out a low growl as he slid his tongue past her lips and his leg between her thighs, and she responded by moaning her delight into his mouth.

Even though her head was spinning with the intoxicating feel of him and every fantasy was finally coming true, they were moving too fast. She wanted to bathe in the dizzying sensations he was creating in her, wanted to taste and smell and feel their passion to remember it for an eternity.

They'd waited too long to simply end it in a quick rush against the wall.

His mouth was latched onto her neck, hands pushing down the straps of her dress, and although her voice came out husky, quivering with need, she asked him to slow down and take her to bed instead.

Either he didn't hear or didn't agree because he only continued his path down towards her breasts, fingers pressing into her flesh, greedily sucking red markings onto her skin, biting harder than she liked.

Panting with arousal, she pushed his shoulders, said it was too much, his roughness tempering some of her heat though her mind was still a blur.

She got only a brief glimpse of him before her whole world was torn apart.

His posture, tensed and charged.

His features, frenzied with lust.

His eyes, darker than she'd ever seen them.

The next second, she was swung around and slammed face down against the table, her nose breaking with a sickening sound and the air forced out of her lungs, the pain of the impact striking through her like lightning. 

The same table where they had sat, not three weeks before this, pressing their palms together, eyes locked with tender promises and a gentle understanding. 

The tearing of fabric, her legs pushed apart, his steel grip on the back of her neck, pressing her on the cold surface, holding her still by force. Her ‘please’ and ‘don’t’ and resistance useless against his overwhelming strength. Her worth fading into nothing.

Trust built over the years, ancient legends promising a future together - ripped to shreds in mere seconds.

The sharp burn of an unwanted intrusion, piercing her body despite the last attempt to fight, the edge of the table biting into her thighs, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth and a weak cry of someone who was not her, all will draining away knowing there was nothing, absolutely nothing she could do to stop this.

Her stare locking on to a spot on the wall, a dulling of thoughts and feelings, leaving only a frail wish she could glide away, escape to somewhere far, far from here.

Her mind going blank, detached from her body, a merciful numbness to endure the few violent thrusts and the hoarse grunts of a voice once secure and dear, shadows closing in around her vision as he jerked and spilled, his breath hot against her neck and his seed warm inside her, before she was abandoned laying powerless, emotionless on the hard surface, sliding slowly to the floor and hearing his slurred words of horror as the blessed darkness engulfed her whole.

***

The first time her consciousness surfaced, it was dark. A cold breeze was blowing through the half-open door, swaying it softly. Red-hot throbbing filled her head and she was unable to feel her limbs. As if merely being awake was too much, her stomach instantly turned over and emptied, but she was too weak to move. And then the darkness took her away again.

It was dusk when she next opened her eyes. Along with her awareness came an agonizing pain all over her body, but now she was able to move. With one goal only, she crawled to the door, reached up with what little strength she had, and closed the lock before slumping to the floor. The thick smell of blood and vomit filled her nostrils, but soon faded away as she drifted back to the void that was both a torment and a relief.

The heat of the midday sun woke her. She could breathe. She could move. And the pain had dampened to a steady pulse of slow healing. She stumbled to the shower, removed her blood-stained, torn dress, and sat down, letting the warm water run over her, soothing and washing away foul reminders of what her mind tried hard to evade. Yet nothing could erase what was repressed inside, already stirring and waiting to explode.

She dried her aching body and hooked the towel neatly by the door.

She dressed a fresh set of clothes and combed her tangled, wet hair.

She cleaned the kitchen and threw away all that was broken.

She called the replicator for a vegetable soup and was about to sit down.

But then she saw his sand painting at the other end of the table. Or what was left of it, after what had happened on that surface.

In a sudden burst of uncontrollable emotion, she threw the plate against the wall and watched it shatter to pieces, broken like she was, the sound and the destruction opening a gate to the storm inside. She grabbed a chair and sent it after the plate, and then another, scattering splinters of furniture and sand through the air as she screamed her rage to the empty room, again and again at the top of her lungs until nothing more came out and she dropped to the floor, crying in weak, pathetic sobs that shook her entire body, loathing herself for the useless tears and useless rage, and hating this planet for everything it had become.

She stayed inside for three days.

Drifting in and out of restless sleep, she was haunted by violent images of nameless men on another alien planet a lifetime ago, mixing with the fresh assault, making it far more damaging.

She got out of bed only to eat something, anything, it didn't matter because she didn't taste the food. She was startled by every unexpected sound, flinched at every shadow she couldn't identify.

Then one morning, she woke up with a clearer head and realized she was not this woman.

Afraid. Hiding. Giving up.

Unlocking the door took every ounce of courage she had. Even the singing of birds and the sun on her face terrified her. Despite the soothing feel of the phaser strapped to her side, her pulse was sky-high and her stomach tight.

Her eyes searched the surroundings for the only threat there was, but even though she found nothing, it didn’t lessen her fear.

She had decided to aim for a full fifteen minutes in the daylight and standing right in front of the door, she counted every second. But as she turned and reached to open the gate to her sanctuary, a voice inside her resisted.

Sighing deep, she gave up the compulsive need to flee. Perhaps she could stay, if only a while longer.

By the time the shadows of the night were inching closer, she'd had a chance to think. He'd been gone for almost a week so maybe, just maybe, he wasn't coming back at all.

And if he did, she would have her phaser ready.

At first, it was difficult to find anything meaningful to fill her days with. Trying to find a cure for the virus had occupied most of her time after arriving on the planet, but the equipment for her research had been destroyed by the storm.

She was restless, in desperate need of something to do. At the edge of her awareness, she knew she would someday have to deal with what had happened to her, but she wasn’t ready for it yet.  

Cleaning the house from floor to ceiling kept her busy and her mind focused. The hours passed swiftly and when she noticed how hungry she was and paused to eat, it was late, and with a full stomach, she fell into a troubled sleep filled with strange, disturbing dreams.

The following day she sat down on the grass with her morning coffee, next to the tomatoes that had died, and absent-mindedly started digging in the dirt with her bare hands.

After watching the soil crumble and fall through her fingers awhile, she decided to pull up the dried plants and fetched new seeds from storage.

There was something thoroughly calming in physical labor. Her every thought was concentrated on the contact with this earth, feeling it, breathing it, owning it.

The project took her the whole day, but once she was finished and stepped back to examine her accomplishment, she felt a glimmer of pride.

That evening she ate with a healthier appetite and was exhausted enough to fall asleep before the distressing thoughts came.

To her disappointment, she woke up to a steady rain that didn't cease all day. Trapped inside, she tried to read, but books didn’t seem to hold her interest like they usually did, her attention repeatedly distracted by the walls around her.

What had once been a home was now only a room, too small, too ascetic, and too full of memories better kept buried from conscious thought.

The hours dragged on and she imagined how nice it would be to listen to the rain outside instead of being forced to stay indoors. A goal worth pursuing presenting itself, she sat down and drew up some plans.

When the rain ended, she gathered the materials and tools needed, most unfamiliar to her, and with the sheer power of will and a healthy amount of cursing, she built a small canopy by the trees.

Well, sort of.

She'd never built anything and the struggle took her days. Yet witnessing the end result made her smile a bit. It was rough, but it was hers.

And as she sat on the wooden deck, reading a new book with a cup of coffee by her side, the white canvas protecting her from the bright sunlight, it was almost possible to pretend there was nothing out of the ordinary and that she was fine.

***

After two weeks living a peculiar half-life, she was forced to face what she had avoided thinking about.

While fixing a broken window frame, a rustle nearby sent her senses on full alert, instant terror flushing through her veins. Maybe if he had come later, she would have given him a chance to speak, but as it was, she had fired the first warning shot the moment she noticed something moving behind the branches.

The following shot splintered a tree next to him and he froze mid-step, closing his mouth before uttering a word.

The phaser aimed firmly at his head, heart racing and ready to fight, she growled with a voice full of venom.

“I have no interest in hearing why you came. You have ten seconds to get away and if I ever, EVER, see you here again, you won’t live to take another breath.”

Loading her words with fire and ice he would not question depleted all her strength, and when she saw his form disappearing into the woods, she sank down against the wall, unable to stop from shaking.

It wasn’t until later, when the shock had subsided, that she recalled his weary, shabby appearance and wondered briefly why he had come by in the first place. But that question was discarded as quickly as it had formed in favor of what mattered most: she had made her point clear and he would not come back.

Forcing herself up and moving wasn’t difficult this time. Somehow, the confrontation had been empowering, even gratifying, making her feel stronger and confident in her ability to survive.

The days soon found a somewhat comforting routine. She took care of the garden, where the tomatoes flourished along with a variety of vegetables and herbs, and fragile seedlings of grapevines. Every day she expanded her territory, strolling deeper into the forest, eventually reaching the river and the vast fields behind it.

There, she would pause and let her gaze sweep over the long grass swaying in the gentle breeze, the sky opening before her like the endlessness of space once had. The view captivated her with its quiet beauty, but it also stirred a feeling she was not ready for, and even though she liked visiting the place, she never stayed more than a few minutes.

It wasn’t long until she began talking to herself. At first, she would utter a random comment every now and then, instantly blushing and glancing around as if someone might have noticed, but soon she was having conversations by herself with ease.

The reasons for the monologues weren’t hard to define. Aimless and alone, she took solace in hearing her own voice to keep her company. The hours of the day weighed heavy on her, in an existence that was essentially without purpose.

Sometime later, she found a note in the canopy.

"Is there anything you need?" it said.

The fire she thought had faded billowed up in seconds, pushing through the thin layer of serenity. She took the crinkled piece of paper with words written in shaky letters and tore it, shouting her hate and bitterness at the indifferent trees, emotions that seemed permanently woven into her being.

Whether he heard her or not, he started bringing her food. Like she was a child, not able to take care of herself. Like a gesture to mend what was beyond repair.

Like he was supplying her for a time when he would not be there, whispered a faint voice at the back of her mind, but she readily shoved the dissonance aside.

His audacity was inconceivable. Leaving her food was degrading and insulting, and every time, she stamped the fruits, or roots, or fish into the dirt, letting him know exactly how she felt about his offerings.

Her contempt didn't stop him. After a while, the food was accompanied with other necessities. Bow and arrows. Nets and hooks. Pelts and a pair of boots made of the softest leather.

It irritated her that he would be so much better at adapting, that he would obviously not have any trouble surviving in the wilderness, while she, on the other hand, was still dependent on technology to sustain her.

But she couldn't deny, everything he brought was useful and needed, if not yet, then maybe someday.

That future was another thing she had avoided thinking about: a day when she would be completely alone, or worse, alone and disabled, without the support of modern equipment, only praying for the end to come.

Because even if she despised his gifts, they held a meaning.

They told her that he was alive, and on a planet inhabited by only two people, that knowledge had significance.

***

Weeks turned into months and their strange co-existence became a natural state. Somewhere along the way, the deepest fear turned into a reasonable ease and the sharpest hatred into an unsettling memory. A memory that didn't match with anything else she knew about him.

She found herself going back to that night more and more often. And the more she turned the events around in her mind, the less they made sense to her.

Every fact she’d learned from his Starfleet intelligence file and her own opinion formed over the two years she’d known him didn’t fit with what he had done. However hard it was to face, he simply was not the kind of man who would force himself on a woman.

And it stayed, like a tiny but sharp splinter at the edge of her mind, a doubt that something about their situation wasn't right, a growing certainty that some crucial piece was missing.

The rainy season started and the days seemed to drag on longer than ever. Listening to the steady drumming on the roof, her thoughts drifted to him repeatedly.

How was he spending his time, was he feeling useless like she was? What kind of shelter had he built, did it keep him warm and dry? How far away was he, would she be able to find his camp if she tried?

She shook the disturbing questions away, but soon enough, her mind wandered back.

The day he stumbled out of the woods barely surprised her. She set down the carrots she had pulled from the ground and stood, but her hand didn't reach for the phaser.

He stayed in the middle of the clearing, far away from her, swaying on shaky legs, not saying a word. And when he collapsed, hitting the ground with dead weight, she couldn’t get to him fast enough.

His skin was pale, cold, and sweaty. His breath was shallow and weak, coming through bluish lips. Eyes rolled back. Unconscious.

Searching for signs of fresh trauma or acute illness, she also took in the traces of long-term suffering. Malnutrition and poorly healed injuries. And lines on his face implying burdens of a different kind.

By the time she had fetched the medkit and returned to his side, attempting to interpret the stream of data from the tricorder, her hands were trembling and a cold weight had settled in her chest along with a thought.

What if she wouldn’t be able to save him, what if this was the end?

She closed her eyes and took a reassuring breath. Going through the tricorder readings once more, she made her decision and pressed the first hypospray to his neck. After a few minutes, she checked his status and moved on to the next symptom, one by one eliminating all the causes that were threatening to take him away forever.

By nightfall, his fever had lessened and his complexion had gained a healthier color, but he was still unconscious and she wasn’t strong enough to move him.

Covering him with every blanket she could find, she sat down next to him in the cooling air and monitored the steady rise and fall of his chest until sleep claimed her, confusing emotions coloring her dreams.

When she woke up to the sun peeking through the branches, she was lying alone on the cold ground, choking on a loss she’d never expected to feel.

The hyposprays she’d prepared were gone, and a quick check inside revealed the disappearance of his clothes and most of his personal belongings, as well as a few basic medicines ordered from the replicator and a tricorder.

The indication couldn’t be more clear. He was gone, with no intention of coming back.

It didn’t matter that she had everything she needed to survive, that she had found a tolerable existence on her own, or that she was more than capable of overcoming all the hardship this planet would care to inflict on her.

She was honest enough to admit that taking care of him, the only person left to keep her company, was more meaningful than anything else had been in months.

Without the connection to another, there was little point in living. And he… he had once meant more to her than anyone.

So she sat down with a pen and a piece of paper, thinking carefully about how to put into words a thought that was only beginning to emerge from the turmoil in her mind, a thought that could very well define the rest of their lives.

“Can we talk?” she wrote and placed the note where he usually left his supplies.

“I don’t think that would be wise,” came an expected reply some days later.

She bit her lip. She was in no place to give him orders anymore, though she felt the urge to do just that. Instead, she would have to be honest.

“I miss you,” she continued their odd communication, forcing out words that were, in spite of the situation, probably more true than anything she’d ever said to him.

“I miss you, too,” he responded, and it looked like the sentence was left hanging, like he had something more to add, but decided to let it be.

She considered ambushing him, building an alarm system to silently notify her when he was approaching, but she quickly rejected the idea. If they were going to confront this nightmare as equals, he would have to want to come to her.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. We need to speak,” she wrote but didn’t get an answer.

Those brief words changed her whole perspective on life.

She stepped out of the bubble she had been living in, detached and clinging to the present, avoiding the thought of him and the uncertain future and the incident that had led them to this stalemate.

Opening her mind, she started truly considering what had happened, her personal past, everything she knew about him, and their relationship with all its twists and turns.

As if the answer had only been waiting for this change in her mindset, she soon found what was missing. Like placing the last piece in Kal-Toh, it brought instant order to chaos **.**

By the side of her usual trail grew the berries they had eaten that night, only now she looked at them in a different light, with a terrible suspicion.

They’d always checked everything new before eating it. And as she ran the tricorder over the deep red fruit again, the readings indicated it was as safe as any other food they were familiar with.

The information only fed her determination. A strong hunch like hers could not be put away without further examination.

She gathered all the food and drinks they had consumed that evening and, with the perseverance of a scientist, began a thorough cross-checking, eventually finding what she already knew.

The red berry, a root they had used to spice the food, and the wine they had enjoyed, all harmless separately, formed a powerful hallucinogen when combined.

Like a true researcher, believing firmly in empirical evidence, and reckless with her need for proof, she prepared the detox hyposprays needed, sat down on the grass and began consuming generous amounts of the ingredients in question.

It didn’t take long.

The warm surge of intoxication spread through her body, escalating to a red-hot inferno within minutes and bursting out of her in an explosion that fixated on the first target she saw: the shelter they had built, the home he had ruined.

And the memory she had kept repressed came back to her in a flash of merciless precision. The growing horror of what was about to happen, the useless struggle to defend herself, the pain in her head and her chest, her core pierced, violated, the humiliation of being stripped and abused and left on the floor like she was worth nothing.

In a crimson rage, induced by adrenaline and the toxins burning in her veins, her attention narrowed to a single thought - demolish the shelter. The focal point of her existence, the one place in the middle of the unknown that had been intended as a safe haven, but had turned out to be the exact opposite.

Each strike filled her with a blessed relief and a sense of fulfillment.

She wasn’t aware of her hands bruising and her skin slicing as she broke the windows. She didn’t feel how her muscles ruptured when she tore down the walls. And when she gathered all her strength and destroyed the table where he had raped her, she didn’t even notice how the bone in her arm snapped.

But then a wave of nausea hit her and she lurched over, emptying her stomach on the wreckage that had been their home, and feeling the rest of her energy draining fast, she remembered the hyposprays and crawled to them, pressed the first two against her neck with shaking, urgent hands, but the third slipped from her fingers as the dizziness took over and she collapsed onto the ground.

Drifting in and out of consciousness the following days, paralyzed, numb, and weak, was a perfect replay of an experience that seemed like ages ago. An incident she had completely misinterpreted.

When her mind was awake and her body in the anguish of healing, she wondered why she hadn’t been able to view the events critically before. Why was it so easy to believe he was capable of such violence despite everything he’d proven himself to be?

Even though the first experience was blurred, she remembered the heightened senses and urges, the diminished inhibition and reason. Having consumed over triple that amount, however, was something else altogether. It had felt like a feverish psychotic episode, and afterward, she recalled nothing but flashes of images and fractures of emotions she could not recognize as her own.

He’d been so fond of those berries, eating most of what they had gathered. She could only imagine the extent of his intoxication, and the time it must have taken for him to heal from the poisoning.

This time, her recovery was faster, aided by medicine and technology, but also a firm goal.

As soon as she could, she went searching for signs of him. Trails he might have made, fires he might have burned, prey he might have gutted, anything to indicate the direction of his camp. In vain. He was out of tricorder range and nowhere to be found.

There was one last option she could think of.

The shelter was in pieces and she wasn’t going to rebuild it again, ever. Moving all her necessities to the canopy she had expanded and improved upon after that first pitiful attempt, near the place where he usually came to leave his offerings, she made it the place where she ate, slept, and spent her time until the day came when he hesitantly showed himself.

He’d changed so much it hurt to look at him.

He had lost a lot of weight and his hair had grown shaggy, the dark rims under his eyes revealing a suffering resembling her own. But what struck her most was his posture, lacking the confidence and harmony that had always been a part of him. She was looking at a man tormented, broken, without hope.

“It was the meal we ate,” she blurted out, afraid he might disappear before she had the opportunity to say it.

“I know,” he answered, leaning against a tree, but making no indication he would be staying.

She frowned in confusion, trying to understand.

“If you knew then why didn’t you...”

“Does it make any difference why it happened? It’s still irrevocable,” he replied, his voice faltering on the last word.

She fell silent, knowing he was right. Resolving the violence he had done to her was far more complicated than defining the reasons behind the events.

But they had wasted months, succumbed to pain and loneliness, hatred and remorse that could’ve been avoided if only they’d talked. Concealing truths too personal to discuss had become a habit within their old command structure, and her direct threat on his life didn’t exactly further chances for communication.

“Can I ask you, what happened to the house?” he inquired cautiously, glancing at the wreck, and for some reason, she blushed.

“It was an experiment. I needed to know, so I tried the berries again.”

For a moment, his face was a myriad of emotions, shifting one after another. Surprise, doubt, worry, anger, and then, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, fading as soon as it had formed, replaced with acceptance and sorrow.

“I should’ve been here. You could have aimed that wrath where it belonged.”

A simple truth, but it covered only a fraction of the mess their lives had become.

For a while, they regarded each other in silence. Changed appearance, changed feelings, a lifetime between what they had been before and what they were now.

“Did you bring something to eat?” she asked, not because it mattered to her, but because she wanted to divert the discussion to safer grounds.

And there was another smile, lighting up his face, not quite with the dimples she’d come to adore, but with a delight that there was something he could do for her.

Somewhere between grilling the fish on an open fire and ending the dinner with fruits they knew were safe, she asked him to stay and although she could tell he was reluctant, he agreed.

But it was nothing like before.

The ease and relaxation, the natural trust that had defined their relationship ever since the first day they met, was lost.

She sensed it and he sensed it.

Avoiding closeness and eye contact. Weighing what, when, and how to say even the simplest matters. Stepping aside to not accidentally touch, setting items down rather than handing them off. Layers of clothing staying on, even in the burning sun. A growing awkwardness when it was time to go to sleep.

Light-years away from bringing up what had happened between them.

Despite the palpable discomfort, they both wanted to make an effort, to find a way back to what they had been. They needed the company, the knowledge that they were not alone, and the meaning it brought when there was someone to take care of and to share everything with.

By the third day, he asked her to sit down.

“I can’t do this, Kathryn. It’s too early.”

Her first instinct was to object. It had been months, five and a half to be exact, and she didn’t want to go back to the horrible loneliness. But she couldn’t disagree.

“We need a house. A real house. A place where we can actually live and maybe enjoy the life we have here.”

He was staring down at his hands, searching for the right words to continue, and she waited patiently to hear the rest.

“There’s a place, not far away, by the river, where the forest ends and a large field opens. The soil is rich and the water is clean. I could build it there.”

She knew the area he was describing. It was the only place where she had found anything resembling peace in the past months and imagining a home there was easy.

But he was still uncomfortable, not looking directly at her.

“The house would have many rooms, and if you want… we could try living there… together.”

His voice was barely audible.

“But if you’d rather live by yourself, I can build another place for myself after yours is finished.”   

She was about to assure him they would be fine, they just needed to give themselves some time, but his eyes darted to her, desperate and hopeless and she let the words fade away, unspoken.

“I need you to stay here until the house is ready, Kathryn. I need to know where you are and that you’re safe, but I can’t be near you, not yet.”

His proposition was unacceptable, and she leaned forward to get his full attention.

“No. I’ll sleep here if you insist, but I want to help you with the construction. I probably won’t be of much use at first, but I will learn.”

She could see the objection in him and hurried to continue.

“This is important to me, Chakotay, to participate in building our future, and I’m sorry, but this is not negotiable.”

Recognizing an argument he was doomed to lose, he dropped the matter, nodded, and made his leave, disappearing into the shades of the forest with a promise of meeting again.

In the morning, he introduced the plans he had made, seeking her eyes for approval as he explained his ideas, saying they could make whatever changes she felt necessary. But all she could do was stare at the numerous pages of detailed drawings and calculations.

It was clear how he’d been spending the long months they were apart, and she had to swallow back the emotion threatening to overwhelm her before she could answer his questions.

He had also taken great care in choosing the site. The ground was solid, ready to be built upon, sloping gently towards the river, the view opening to the vast plains and the mountains in the distance.

No, there was nothing she wanted to change. He had thought of everything.

He had thought of her.

Perhaps it was a blessing that she had no previous experience in building a house. If she had, she might have felt daunted by the amount of hard work implied on his blueprints and like any rational being, she probably would have suggested a more modest design.

Because even with a little help from modern technology, much was left to their wit, skill, and strength.

Every tree had to be cut down, branches and bark removed. Every log dried, grooved, and notched to interlock at the corners. Every stone dug up, moved, and carefully placed to create a foundation that would last a lifetime.

Week after week of physical labor became permanent aches in her back, arms, and legs. But the work also made her stronger and was meaningful in a way that filled her with satisfaction. Breathing was easier, food tasted better, and every night, she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep and woke up refreshed and excited to live another day.

She was simply happy.

Helping each other strive for this common goal, it didn’t take long for their closeness to become natural and expected. Their shoulders touched as they dragged the logs into place, fingers brushed as tools were exchanged. And every so often the air was filled with their joint heavy breathing, acting as reassurance that they were determined to see this through, together.

Due to the magnitude of their project, even talking turned out to be effortless. There was just so much to be discussed. Planning how to proceed, detail by detail, while keeping in mind the big picture. Modifying the blueprints when needed, finding solutions to problems unforeseen.

During breaks they began sharing experiences from the time spent apart, interesting places they had found, useful information they had learned about the planet, means they had discovered for better survival.

And finally, as one evening stretched past midnight without either making a move to leave, encouraged by the shadows hiding their faces and protecting them from too much intimacy, they whispered secrets kept hidden deep within.

They admitted the attraction, held at bay by duties that seemed never-ending, and the possibility of that distant dream to become reality once they were stranded and left behind. They reflected on the months of utter loneliness and lack of purpose in the world. They even acknowledged the wish of death.

But confronted with the event that changed everything, their conversation withered. The wound was still too fresh, the memory loaded with too much emotion for the right words to find a way out. Instead, they shared the silence, releasing tears both had carried inside for so long.

As a turning point, those tears shared helped their togetherness become easier. She found the dimpled smile spreading across his face in response to hers more often and gravitating toward each other without any particular reason became a habit again.

He continued to teach her new skills daily, but it didn’t feel awkward anymore for him to hold her hand and show her the motion, angle, and pressure necessary to use each tool.

The first time she laid her hand on his chest, laughing at his polite remark about her dawning skills in woodwork, felt pleasant and comfortable, like it did long ago, and in a split second she recognized the familiar heat low in her belly, unexpected, but definitely there.

Her smile died out at the mere surprise of such a strong sensation, but try as she might, she could not find anything about the revelation that would trouble her.

He, however, looked flushed and confused, excusing himself and finding a task where she was not needed, avoiding her for a while.

That night sleep evaded her.

Although she appeared to be moving forward from the horrible moments that nearly destroyed their lives, he was obviously not. He knew all that she knew. Why wasn’t he ready to push past that memory? Had she not been clear with her feelings?

She remembered telling him that she enjoyed his company, that she wanted to share her life with him, but now that she thought about it, she hadn’t told him specifically that she longed for the physical intimacy as well as the emotional bond.

Considerate to his hesitation and any doubt still left in his mind, she kept her distance and didn’t pressure him into more than he was ready for. But in working side by side from dawn till dusk, there was no escaping the inevitable closeness, and despite her best efforts, her focus kept drifting to him.

His skin had tanned into a beautiful shade of bronze and he smelled of sun, earth, and masculinity. Months of manual labor had sculpted his body and even under his shirt, she could see his muscles rippling in exertion.

At the end of the day, he liked to dive into the cool river and swim downstream with long, easy strokes until turning and working his way back. There, he would stay awhile, floating and enjoying the feel of the water.

In those private moments, he looked serene, younger than his years, and it warmed her heart to see him gradually come to life again.

This was the man she had once cared for and relied on, whose presence had brought her inner peace and joy, the man she wanted to have by her side and in her life, without conditions.

The conflicting emotions hung between them, as a possibility, but also a threat to the fragile balance they had achieved. Only this time, neither were able to put that tension into words.

Channeling that energy into work, the house proceeded with speed, round by round towards roof level. Doors and windows in place, they moved to finalize the floor, sanding and polishing the wood for it to feel silky and smooth beneath their feet.

And when they stood inside their new home, still lacking any interior, but a home nonetheless, accomplished by working together in same seamless unison they had always done, grinning at each other with delight of such a remarkable achievement, she wrapped her arms around him without thinking and reached up on tiptoe to kiss him.

To her, that first touch of his full lips against hers was the sweetest possible reminder of where they had left their relationship and the shiver along her spine was a thrilling promise of pleasures to come. His hands on her hips felt absolutely right, and with a gentle passion, she threaded her fingers through his hair and parted her lips, deepening the kiss into an invitation.

But instead of joining her in the moment, he froze.

Vaguely, she understood where his reaction was springing from, but it hurt anyway, to feel him pulling away from her, eyes downcast. And when he turned to leave, she could not find a thing to say.

Taking long, slow breaths to calm the chaos in her mind, she started pacing around the room, sorting out her thoughts, and came to the only conclusion there was.

She would not take this distance any longer. One way or another, they would have to reconnect, and to accomplish that, they would have to start talking about the incident they had so carefully avoided.

This planet was their home and would continue as such till the end of their days. There were no duties, no laws, nothing to define their existence.  They were free in every sense of the word, free to reduce their future to plain survival or help it grow into something full and gratifying.

They were both intelligent and compassionate, and it was clear they cared deeply about each other. And even before they were stranded, they had been through so much together. In that light, it seemed incomprehensible how inept they were at resolving this issue, letting one horrible event remain as a huge barrier keeping them apart.

The sun was setting when she stepped outside, the sky painted with shades of auburn, but she saw only his form. Standing by the river, defeat written in his posture. Staring blindly ahead, he gave no indication of registering her approach.

“Do you really need me to say it, Chakotay?” she asked without truly expecting a reply. “Would it ease your pain if I told you just how much you hurt me, would it help you get past this if I judged you somehow? Because the way I see it, you seem to be punishing yourself enough for both of us.”

His face was expressionless, making it easy for her to decide to push him all the way, to get any kind of reaction from him.

“You broke me, Chakotay, in every way a person can be broken. My body, my heart, and my mind. You humiliated me, made me feel worthless, weak, afraid. For weeks, I was unable to move ten steps away from the shelter. I was terrified of everything. I had no control over the images flashing through my mind, of you and of another assault when I was younger, the nightmares haunted me in sleep and in wake. Then that terror gave way to such bitterness and anger I could barely think of anything else. I hated you, Chakotay, with every breath I took, more than I remember ever hating anyone, and the truth is, I would have shot you on sight if you had come back.”

Taking a pause to draw breath, she saw his eyes had widened, like he was drinking in every word. Maybe he did need to hear this.

“But most importantly, you broke my trust. And that was the one thing I thought I could never get back. You feel the need to say again how sorry you are? I understand, but I have already forgiven you. I tried the berries again and turned into someone I can’t identify. I took out an entire building in that high, and I kept going even though my arm was broken, the pain meant nothing. I could never hold you responsible for your actions in that state, Chakotay, I know that wasn’t you,” she ended, hoping he would comprehend and accept, because there were no more truths to reveal.

She had to wait a long time for his reply.

“I don’t know how you could ever forgive what I did to you, Kathryn,” he said slowly. “But even if that were true, I still wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. See, even if that night is foggy, there’s one image burned into my mind, and I recall it every time I look at you.”

Staring at the horizon again, he forced out his own nightmare.

“As clear as if it were happening right now, I see you lying on the floor. Your face is covered in so much blood I can hardly recognize you. My fingerprints are already visible on the side of your neck, four marks in a row. Your dress is torn and your body is… shattered, lifeless. And it strikes me that I did this to you.”

He turned to her, eyes filled with agony.

“So tell me, Kathryn, how could I ever allow myself to forget that and touch you like I have a right to be anywhere near you?”

She had no answers for him, only a useless attempt to blink back tears that broke free regardless.

“You lost so much, Kathryn. Voyager and the life you loved. Your friends and any hope of seeing your family again. And you were left here, on this planet, with… me.”

The last word filled with endless self-hatred, he lowered his head in shame.

There wasn’t much she could say to a man who felt unworthy of forgiveness, dishonored because of wrongs he had committed, whatever the reason had been. This he would have to reconcile with himself.

But she could give him a nudge in the right direction.

“I’m so sorry this happened to us, Chakotay,” she said, sadness etched in her voice. “Without this accident, we would be on quite a different path right now. But you’re not responsible for my life or my happiness, you never have been. Just like I’m not responsible for yours.”

His expression remained blank and she wondered if the words delivered her meaning.

“Yes, I was devastated after realizing we would be forced to stay here. I always assumed I knew how my life would turn out, as it was set on a specific course ever since I was young. Your ability to adapt is enviable, Chakotay, but I needed longer than you did to cope with the change.”

She gazed at the moon rising above the hills, reaching for the harmony the view always brought her, before facing him again, hoping he would see her as she was, not as he pictured her in the flashbacks haunting his mind.

“It took me a long time to find this balance and contentment with the present, but I did, and I have no doubt I’ll be happy here. I only wish we could find a way to be happy together.”

Considering whether she should, she pressed her hand to the warmth of his chest and smiled as he instantly covered it with his own.

“And you’re wrong about another thing, Chakotay,” she added, looking deep into his eyes, where the pain had given way to curiosity. “If I had to spend all my life with only one person, I would have chosen you, even now - especially now.”

Her last confession seemed to resonate something in him, like a flickering light that might grow if nourished.

“You think about that, okay? I’ll be at my camp, for as long as you need.”

She turned to leave, letting her hand linger in his.

“But the next time you come by, we are taking everything we own and moving into this house. Together.”

Her steps were light as she walked away because the discussion had revealed something that ultimately took away all her remaining uncertainty about their future. Before she blended into the shadows, she glanced over her shoulder and threw him a smile, springing from a feeling too intense to be held inside.

They had been cast into an impossible situation before and survived, drawing strength not only from individual resilience and resourcefulness, but also instinctive, mutual trust.

They had been able to look past rank and rivalry, deep into the core of each other, and recognize the sincere desire to reach out, to understand, and to find common ground to build on.

Buried under the burden of guilt, he had lost sight of his strength, but she was certain he would reclaim it and discover a way to forgive himself. And when he did, he would return to her.

Waiting wasn’t difficult.

She went through their belongings, organized, and packed.

She planned how to furnish their home, a table for his sand paintings, a corner for her to read in.

She thought about rainy days they would spend on the porch, a cup of tea and coffee next to a table game he had chosen. The boat he would build and the distances they would travel, along the river and over the hills. How the silver in his hair would find company with the same color in hers, years and labor imprinted on their skin, but eyes holding the spark of a life well lived.

It took him five days, but when he came, he kissed her with desperate longing and all the affection she had waited for him to unleash, and she couldn’t stop smiling against his lips, overflowing with the relief of a prolonged suspense finally coming to an end.

When they parted, he took her into his arms and carried her through the woods, and over the threshold of their home. Holding her close to his body and his heart, he whispered his love without doubt or restraint and she returned every emotion deep and true, both of them ready to let go of the past and look into their future, to shape it as theirs.

Seasons passed one after the other, with only the sky above to witness them thrive. They explored the planet and called it home, turning to each other for comfort and support, for companionship and a worthy opposition. The first hesitant caresses grew into a lifetime of passion, a fulfillment of desires and more tender wishes to be simply held and cared for, their bond giving life a solid base, a meaning, and a destination.

And when the day eventually arrived, the one both had dreaded, it was she who lay on their shared bed, held tight in his arms, her body weak and tired, and her face moist with his tears though hers had long since dried.

But her mind was at peace because she saw her years with crystal clarity.

She had been blessed with a beautiful life, full of struggle and achievement, challenges to embrace and obstacles to overcome, a love long awaited and cherished once attained, a togetherness that flourished and grew stronger with time.

A journey and an adventure, divided into two equal parts.

A time before New Earth – and everything after.

∞


End file.
